


When It's Saturday

by Amaceity



Category: The Catcher in the Rye - J. D. Salinger
Genre: But this isn't going to be hardcore angst!, Character Study, Eventual Relationships, Feelings Realization, I attempt a direct continuation where Salinger left off, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Religious Conflict
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 18:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20532707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amaceity/pseuds/Amaceity
Summary: You know how I told you how I was missing everybody? Well right before fall started in my new school, old Stradlater decided to call one August day to see how I was doing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A short attempt to add more to the Catcher in the Rye because Holden begs to be further explored.

You know how I told you how I was missing everybody? Well right before fall started in my new school, old Stradlater decided to call one August day to see how I was doing. Now I thought it was real odd at first, hearing Stradlater himself in the phone asking how I was and all. The last time we saw or talked to each other was my last day at Pencey and it hadn't exactly been the best way to end things. The first thing I asked was why he was calling me and he said that he saw Jane again which reminded him of me. So there I was listening to Stradlater talking about Jane and how he's moved on from her and I didn't reply for a while because I was already feeling lousy with him talking on and on about this new girl named Tracy he met at a baseball game.

"So whaddya hell call me for Stradlater?" I repeated. My mood these days could swing from gay to lousy in a matter of seconds and more on more I find myself convinced from my psychoanalyst that I might be a loony. He certainly hoped so and I really wasn't going to convince him otherwise.

There was a pause and I heard some shuffling. I thought that Stradlater was going to hang up on me and I just about burst to tears at the phone.

"Wait! Don't hang up please!" I sounded like a goddamn pansy. 

"Hey what'sa matter with ya Holden?" he said. Stradlater didn't hang up and didn't sound like a phony for once. The bastard got away with everything while being a big phony because of his Year Book handsome looks which all the girls fell for while I kept my thoughts to myself. 

"Wouldya like to come over?" I said. I was feeling pretty nervous for some goddamn reason. I hadn't many people calling me up recently and I was excited to hear Stradlater's voice, the bastard, especially since I didn't admit to missing them and all.

"What for?"

"For Chrissake, I dunno go to the movies, to the museum, or to the goddamn park if ya want."

"Sure, sure Holden. Ya know what I miss most about ya? I keep thinking bout your fine hound's-tooth jacket!" 

"You can have it," I said. I mean it. A lousy bastard like Stradlater would want something to have as an incentive to come over. I barely even wore it and every time I do I kept thinking about the way it looked good on a sexy bastard like Stradlater and how it looked outright crumby on me. 

"You mean that Holden? Wow! Well, thanks! Say I think I can come over this Saturday." Stradlater said. He sounded so sure as if he had thought of the idea all on his own, the bastard. But I do miss him and that's the God honest truth. Even old Ackley and his halitosis and pimples ripe to burst. 

"Well alright then Holden, be seeing ya." 

Stradlater hung up and I stood there with the phone in my hand like a goddamn moron in a trance. My stomach felt like one of those ice cream makers that you churn with ice and salt--churning with a queasy and uneasy rocking. What the hell is happening to me? I dropped the receiver and heard my mother yell from the front door to hurry it up.

My psychoanalyst was a bland, starch looking man named Dr. Wellington. He was alright, he seemed to understand my predicament with seeing the world for what it really was--a bleak phony world with the phoniest goddamn people you'll ever meet. He always had a bottle of whiskey to his left, or to my case my right, and would take tiny little sips straight from the bottle. He told me the bottle kept him honest and I believe him.

On our first meeting, I asked him what kind of a job is a psychoanalyst--how do you analyze a person if he's loony or not. He told me he doesn't, he lets them talk and talk until they've felt all better and thank him for making them feel better. I said that seems like the type of job that will make you loony. He said that everyone's loony if you really want to think about it. I said I didn't want to think of myself as being loony. Then he said that loony people are everywhere and that it's perfectly Oh-kay. I told him that my younger brother Allie was probably the only one who wasn't loony in the entire world. He was normal, he played good ball, was funny, and was the smartest kid around--boy was he the most normal kid. There was nothing loony or phony about him, I mean it. Everyone wanted to be normal and Allie was that kid.

I wonder sometimes if he was still alive would he be loony like me? Then I tell myself that's the type of question that a loony would ask. 

"You're late Mr. Caulfield." Dr. Wellington said. I entered his office which was a coffee looking color surrounded by tall pasty white shelves of books probably about being loony and how it was Oh-kay. 

"Say am I normal yet, Doc?" I sat down the cherry red leather seat and pulled the tip of my deer hunting hat so it blinded my eyes. I gave a little crooked smile that showed my perfectly good teeth just for the hell of it. Dr. Wellington lets me fool around like that without so much as blinking an eye so I sometimes go dance around his office and clack my shoes like a tap dancer. I always have to be moving somehow or I'll go off like a damn balloon.

"Do you feel normal yet?" That's what the Doctor does, he turns the questions around on you so you end up answering your own question like a damn moron. I couldn't see him but I could practically visualize his dead, algae eyes swimming in a sunken fishbowl orb just staring at me. I couldn't handle it, staring at it too long. It creeps the hell out of me.

Then I told him about Stradlater and how he called me today. I said I felt normal because someone had called me instead of it being the other way around. It felt normal to have a friend calling you. Eventually, I lifted my hat from my eyes and saw Dr. Wellington with his back on me staring at the window which overlooks Central Park. It was a nice sort of day, the sun out and all. Maybe I'll ask old Phoebe if she wanted to go and skate at the park after this.

"Doc?" 

"Hm?" Dr. Wellington turned around and then I freaked out when I saw his algae looking eyes swimming in tears. I never saw Dr. Wellington look like that before and it honestly startled me so much that I practically shot off the damn chair. The doctor sniffled real loud and grabbed a couple of tissues from his desk and wiped all his snot dripping out his nose. I didn't say a damn thing but my eyes sure were round as saucers.

"Oh Holden, I am so sorry, I am so sorry." He kept mumbling something like that while he wiped his face and kept on sniffling. "I am so sorry. I don't know anymore if anyone can be normal." 

"So what the hell Doc? You telling me you were just shooting crap all along?" I slammed my fists on the desk. What a waste of time--this whole time I was led along like a goddamn fool. My parents counted me to be “fixed” by the time school started this fall. I had no say in the matter.

"Now Holden I never did promise you anything. I told you everyone is loony. It's Oh-kay, it's Oh-kay." He was sniveling while he sipped his whiskey, whispering his own crap. I wanted to beat the hell out of him I was so mad I couldn't think straight.

"You're supposed to know! You're supposed to fix me doc!" I was screaming murder while Dr. Wellington stared at me coolly like some lousy germ under a microscope. 

"No, Holden. You never needed anything from me. You're loony but so am I." His eyes had never been clearer to me like I was seeing him for the first time. I was seeing my reflection in his dead algae eyes and I never realized it. I swiped the goddamn bottle from his hands and took a big swig outta that thing. I mean I was really going for it that my eyes were tearing up from the burn. All the whole Dr. Wellington did nothing but watch and murmur "Oh-Kay, Oh-Kay, Oh-Kay..."

I sure as hell wasn’t going to stay here and I ran out to who-knows-where till I was sure I couldn’t hear Dr. Wellington anymore. I was at some random street, bent down on my knees and all and panting like crazy. I clutched at my hat and since this is the city nobody bothered to stop and ask how I was and all. I thought that if I die now nobody will miss a loony like me, then I thought of old Phoebe and how she’ll probably feel pretty sad if I went and kicked the bucket. I thought of how I felt when Allie died. The kid wasn’t supposed to die, but he did because God had decided it. That’s what the priest told me. I thought it wasn’t a very nice thing to say and I felt so angry at that. So God decided it? What a lousy thing to say. 

I just thought how old Allie must be looking at me right now from up there. I always think like that nowadays. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I feel off writing Holden's voice, but then I think well I'm not here trying to write like Salinger verbatim. This is the beauty of fanfiction! 
> 
> Thanks for reading~ xoxo


	2. Chapter 2

I didn’t really felt like doing anything but boy did I looked forward to this Saturday. 

The moment I left Dr. Wellington’s place feeling like crap, I wandered around Central Park South and bought peanuts and a hotdog from the local vendors. I ended up chucking half of the roasted peanuts to the ducks at the lake, because why the hell not. The mama duck had a bunch of baby ducklings to feed and to take care of and I'd be pretty damn selfish not to help out good ol' mother nature. God up there oughta give me heaven points, enough to see Allie playing a mean pitch at the ball. 

I suddenly wondered if Stradlater would enjoy seeing the ducks and feeding them and all, or would he be more interested in checking out the theater and watching some phony movie with actors and actresses lying through the skin of their teeth. Hey, it could be helluva time. Then I thought of Stradlater hitting up some girl and asking for a telephone number and all after the movie. That made my stomach turn and I couldn't even take a bite of my hotdog so I gave it to a homeless man with a sign that said **'World War II Veteran. Any help appreciated.'**

"Thanks for your service," I mumbled while tipping my hat in a gesture of respect. The veteran looked godly to me for some reason, I mean it. Mom always did say something about Jesus disguising Himself in all kinds of people, which honestly kills me. I get a bang outta thinking of some random person in the streets being Jesus--like the little black boy running around with a tattered book bag and a stick swatting it at whoever he could hit, or a skinny lady wrapped in a large peacoat and newsboy cap that could barely contain her wild nest of wheat-colored hair, or the man that dressed in a sharply tailored suit of midnight black slicing through the crowds in busy Wall Street like the reaper incarnated. Yeah, any of them could be Jesus apparently and I would let out a loud bellowing laughter until tears came outta my eyes. I always thought religion was a huge load of crap, really, but ever since Allie passed away I wrestled with the idea everyday until I could vomit. Dr. Wellington had said it was natural to have 'conflictions' about the idealogy of a higher being and the following beliefs that faith entailed. So naturally I asked him what he believed in and the old bastard just gave me some canned cryptic response.

_"God is whoever you want Him to be. Many people follow whatever they believe in, which manifests to anything becoming God in their eyes. My God, Holden, is vast and cold."_

Maybe the old homeless veteran really was Jesus. Maybe I was cracking up faster than the carton of dozen eggs that Phoebe broke during a bake sale.

It startled the hell out of me when the gaunt man suddenly took my hand and stared up at me with haunted grey eyes and creaking bones. He held up the hotdog I gave him with his other filthy hand. My instincts made me wretch away as much as I could but boy did this man have a strong grip! Pure dread jolted through my body, certain sensations from wispy and disjointed memories of my old teacher creeping up and swallowing down any semblance of rational thought I barely held. For Chrissake I didn't wanna break down again!

"Bless ya my boy. Your kindness will go far in your life which has yet to see it's true purpose." The veteran smiled warmly up at my undignified expression of pure terror. The moment the emaciated veteran loosened his ironfist I bolted the hell away.

My heart raced and raced a mile a minute…

_Goddamn it, goddamn it, goddamn it!_

I held back the sobs that already bubbled in my chest, wishing for this goddamn day to be over and Saturday to come.

Phoebe pretty much tackled me when I walked through the front door, like I was some celebrity or something that stepped out of the screen. 

"Oh Holden! We thought you'd run away! Dr. Wellington's office called and told us you up and left before the session was over!" Good old Phoebe clung to me like she knew exactly what had transpired. I gotta give it to her, she sees through me, she really does.

I thought it to be near damn impossible to keep on holding back my tears but somehow I managed. I simply patted Phoebe's back and leaned in to kiss her right in the middle of her forehead. I found that I didn't find it fake or phony or anything whenever I got to be a little vulnerable with Phoebe. 

Mom and dad didn't raise up too much of a fuss about the incident. Dad mentioned that Dr. Wellington didn't charge them for that session and recommended that I have some time off for myself instead of being cooped up in his office. Mom didn't like that idea one bit and thought to ask me whether I said something to Dr Wellington that displeased him. Phoebe piped up real quick about some art project they're doing in class, defusing the damn bomb ticking inside me.

Dinner couldn't even be safe from any lousy and phony conversations.

I started dreaming about Jane. Her fingers felt cool to the touch at my nicked cheek and from there we were necking pretty heavily. See, the thing was I knew I, myself, was kissing Jane but then it became morphed out of nowhere and suddenly I was goddamn Stradlater who was necking her. 

_"It's easy, Caulfield. Jane tastes like sweet cherry pie, a little sweet tart of a thing."_

_Stop it._

_"Why Caulfield?_ _ What's wrong with you?"_

_Stop talking about her._

_"Do ya really like her? Be honest."_

_I do._

_"What happened then, huh? Why did ya stop talking to her?"_

_Because you took her from me._

_"Did I? She wasn't yours to begin with. You liked her, sure, but not the way you think you do."_

_What the hell are you on about?_

Then I was myself again, but this time I was suddenly necking _him_\--Stradlater!

I woke up feeling like hell in the middle of the night, cold sweat dripping from my forehead, my pits, my groin. 

I didn't know how scared shitless I really was until I touched my lips. They were quivering and all. I felt gutted by that nightmare. 

Like hell I was some flit! 

It was wrong in so many levels that Dr. Wellington himself probably wouldn't even bother to coin it as 'conflictions' or write it off as being Oh-Kay. 

Mom and dad will have no choice but to ship me off to some god forsaken mental institution for the queers. I would never finish my senior year and spend the rest of my life haunted by the ghost of Allie. Phoebe will never probably hug me again…

My lips quivered and quivered, I couldn't shake it off until finally I let it out. 

Tears, oh man, tears oughta come out of you freely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A burst of inspiration brought me to writing the second chapter of this short little drabble. Please kindly excuse any mistakes / anachronisms present throughout the fic. At this point I'm playing exclusively by ear as it has been close to a year since I read the novel, haha.
> 
> Holden will have his happy moments!!


	3. Chapter 3

When I woke up, pretty goddamn late at around ten o'clock in the morning, I heard an unfamiliar laughter ringing from the kitchen. I rubbed my eyes 'cause they were sore and itching as hell from my crying the whole night. Hell, I didn't even have enough emotional energy leftover to feel crappy about myself so I dragged my feet to the can and did the whole phony morning routine of looking _ decent _ and _ normal _ like a proper loony.

I stared at myself in the mirror and really dug through my reflection, seeking any indication that might give away any queer signs. My hair had grown longer like the flittiest flit to ever live. I grabbed a pair of scissors from my desk and flew across the hallway when I bumped into someone I _ never _expected to be here. 

"_Stradlater?_ What the hell?" I must have looked like a petrified moron, my eyes bugging out the sockets.

The scissors I was holding dropped to my feet and Stradlater bent down to pick it up from the floor. 

"Dropped something there, Holden. I know you've missed me and all but couldya look less shocked? I ain't a ghost or something." 

I really goddamn thought he was a ghost, I mean it.

While my mind was scrambling and processing his apparition, Stradlater decided that was the time to barge in my room like he owned the place and all. He placed the scissors back on the desk and sat on his firm ass on top of it. His broad shoulders made my room look smaller, filling out the whole damn place.

"Cool place ya got. I got here about an hour or so ago in case you're wondering over there. Didn't seem polite to just wake you up. Besides, Mrs. Caulfield sure is something with her pancakes, I mean really I'd let a nice sweet babe like her fry me up some pancakes every morning. Hoo, imagine. You really got it good here Holden."

"You don't know a goddamn thing." The way I spoke, I was really proud of myself for not spouting some lousy crap or even doing something stupid like stutter. 

Stradlater's jaw locked and his eyes flashed like he was going to punch the hell out of me, and I almost wished he did just like the last time I saw him. It's better than agonizing on the inside when you see a friend you hadn't seen in a while and the first thing you think about is their goddamn lips on you. He didn't slam his fists unfortunately, and only gave me one of his phony sexy smirk. Boy, it really killed me the way he can just act all nonplussed.

"Look, pal. I go outta my way to see a dear, old friend of mine and I expect a little gratitude you know? If you've got something else to do I can go and not bother you, it's that simple. I ain't got time to babysit little boys anymore now that I'm off to college."

I could tell Stradlater grew up even more somewhere between the period when I last saw him till now. The damn bastard had just graduated high school, while I'm here flunking everything left and right and unsure whether or not I'd be attending my senior year this fall. It seems everybody else is moving forward but when you're a loony like me you're actually moving backwards.

"Just woke up, willya give me a minute to put something on?" I threw on a robe earlier before heading out to the bathroom as I usually sleep in my boxers. Stradlater shrugged but didn't leave to give me space, the bastard. 

"Here, I'll be a bud--that I so graciously am--and dress you up to impress the ladies." He opened up my armoire and started sliding through the hangers with his damn syrupy fingers. I swore, the guy probably necks with himself in the mirror when no one else was looking.

"Christ, you don't have to do that." I was sweating like a donkey in a sauna even though the air conditioner was working just fine and all. 

"So, whaddya do this summer, hm? Hopefully you gave the time to some chick and got yourself a summer girl." Stradlater took out some clothes off the rack and spread them in my bed, doing whatever the hell he fancied.

"Didn't do much to tell you the truth. Wasted my goddamn time to some sonuvabitch psychoanalyst." I quickly put on the brown corduroy trousers that Stradlater had put out like my ass was on fire, shaking all over and even fumbling with the zipper. 

"I heard about that. Mrs. Caulfield may have shared more than she should have to tell you the truth. Geez willya put on your clothes properly?"

My fingers were working a mile minute to button up my dress shirt, hooking the button in the wrong lousy slit. I had no power left in me when Stradlater began to touch the front of my shirt and carefully reworked the buttons to the proper place. I stood there and kept my eyes on his fingers. His nails were neatly trimmed and filed, and at this proximity his clean body soap smell slammed up my nose with just that hint of his natural musk that dragged me back to our dorm room at Pencey. I wonder what else my mother had blabbed.

"Ya passed English with Hartzell then?" I licked my lips, nervous as all hell, clearly asking stupid questions.

"Yeah, funny you mention that. I wrote some crap about our dorm room and got all descriptive with it. Got a goddamn A on it too." Stradlater smoothed out the small creases here and there. "Gave me an inspiration when ya left so you didn't leave me completely high and dry. Also, uh…" Hearing Stradlater hesitate was rare and it gave me the courage to flick up my eyes towards his handsome face. I saw two small cuts on his otherwise shaven jawline, I figured from using the same lousy razors he never cleaned because he was a secret slob.

"I am sorry about your brother, truly. I had no idea and you never mentioned him before," Stradlater said.

I couldn't believe my ears. First, Stradlater was apologizing, and second, my mother really shares too much information. I felt all red in the face and mind you I was still sweating, I didn't know whether to cry or to shout or to yell so I let out an ugly little whimper and did my damnedest to choke back my tears.

"Just forget all about it. He's dead now." It honestly killed me to even say that in front of Stradlater, of all goddamn people. It's not like Allie's death has me in tears anymore, or at least as bad as it once was. Everyday I think of something to hold onto him, like his laugh, his silly jokes, his witty remarks, but even those eventually faded, melting into a picture of a younger brother that was both familiar and ethereal. To say he is dead didn't make any sense whatsoever because he is with me every step of the way.

"Aw geez Holden, are you really crying right now?" Stradlater's cool guy facade cracked as he watched my tears stream fatter and fatter from my swollen eyes. I would have gloated straight to his symmetrical face in seeing him all worried as he almost never worried about anything. 

That's the type of guy Stradlater is, riding on the coattails of a genetic advantage, and acting like he controlled the goddamn female population. That's what got me so damn riled up the last time we fought at Pencey. He talked about Jane like she was just another trophy to win, while all I could think about was the times Jane and I played checkers and hardly gave a thought about actually winning a damn game. 

Anyway as it was, I was currently drowning in my misery in front of the one friend that thought to check up on me. Funny how some things work out in the end. Jane somehow ended up descending into the twilight while Stradlater rose up like the dawn. I would have shot myself in the foot before ever admitting to having thought that.

Those arms that I used to stare and glumly admire from a close distance, got pinned down into a wrestling hold a coupla times, and for better or worse, had been dealt blows from was now suddenly wrapped around me. It threw me off the goddamn loop.

My mind and body froze as I pressed up against the warm and toned body of the handsome bastard. Our height difference was indiscernible, he might have half an inch on me if that, so our shoulders easily aligned as Stradlater held onto me.

"Easy does it Holden, you stop crying now." 

A weird and unwanted thought wriggled inside my brain, compartmentalizing the scene, and it was the thought of me being a girl that Stradlater picked up for the weekend and how I would act all phony just to feel those brawny muscles on me. It really did feel like those corny scenes in the goddamn movies, I could practically hear the shallow audience cheering.

Except the cheering was the ringing in my ears and Stradlater only embraced me tighter and tighter until I physically couldn't shake no more. It was like he was using sheer physical sensation to drown over my flood of unstable emotions. And it was working, it really was. I sort of forgot what it felt like to be comforted. Sure, there was the easy haze a cigarette could light up in me, and it was the easiest access to comfort I had. I forced myself to quit because Phoebe told me to a few weeks ago, all she said on the matter was that cigarettes were unhealthy. I'll believe anything that kid says, she's really that smart. Stradlater's arms around me, were like maybe ten or twenty or maybe fifty packs of cigarettes combined. I wasn't even exaggerating.

I moved my arms and held Stradlater to me, moving just based on feeling and boy was l acting needy. Now I don't know if I ever want to let him go.

"Are you feeling better?" Stradlater asked. There was a distinct deepness to his voice that I've never heard before. I simply nodded, not wanting to break whatever this is. I was scared the moment he let me go that this would all just be another dream. 

If this is what it felt like to be a flit, so let it goddamn be. I felt like a ball being tossed and Stradlater is the glove that perfectly caught me.

Eventually, as all good things must, his arms loosened from me and we were again separated. It took another second for me to land back on my feet and I was staring at the bastard's sexy smug face and all.

"Works like a charm, everytime."

I couldn't help but smile, I was fully being swept up by him I really was. 

"Boys! I'm sorry to interrupt, but I have a client coming in today. Holden, would you show Ward around? I have to make a really good impression with this client…" 

Mom kept talking and talking but my feet were already out the door. I didn't want her noticing the tears or redness on my face.

"Yeah alright mom, good luck with your client!" I said. 

"Be back home for dinner!"

"Don't worry Mrs. Caulfield I'll make sure to steer him out of trouble." Stradlater winked at my mother and closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holden maybe OOC but that's what we want! Anyway, thanks for reading! Usual apologies apply here as well. 
> 
> Also I didn't even realize that the day I posted this (Sep. 5) exactly hits the one year mark of the fic. I didn't even plan that. 
> 
> Fun fact: this isn't for a school assignment.
> 
> *Bonus:
> 
> [ My head cannon faces for these lovable idiots (I lost sleep because of this...)](https://i.postimg.cc/zXmCMMkk/20200924-065630-0000.png)


End file.
